


Sharper (In Gratitude)

by bachlava



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M, Gen, Holidays, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bachlava/pseuds/bachlava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirteen Thanksgivings in the life of Alex Rousseau.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharper (In Gratitude)

**Author's Note:**

> Canon through the first three seasons of _Lost_ (which, incidentally, have Alex born in 1988).

**  
I. November 26, 1993   
**

“Daddy, can I go pick some flowers for the table?”

“I’m sure you’re capable of it, Alex. Are you asking my permission?”

“Yes.”

“Then what do you say?”

“Um… May I go pick some flowers for the table?”

“That’s right. Of course you may.” Dad looks at his watch. “But don’t let the sun get much lower than it is now. People will be getting here for dinner soon.”

“Can everybody fit inside our house?”

“No, sweetheart. Some people are going to go to Isabel’s house, and some of them are going to Amelia’s. They take turns coming here.”

“Oh. That’s fair.”

“Yes, it is. Everything we do here is fair.”

“I know.”

“I love you, princess.” Dad turns away from the oven and picks her up. “You’re getting so big!”

“No, you’re getting smaller.”

Dad laughs. “Maybe I am. Hurry on and pick some flowers.”

She goes to the ornamental garden and wonders what to pick. There are so many flowers… but Dad said not to take too much time. One of everything, she decides, and as many colours as she can. A rainbow, even! She hasn’t memorized all the names of the flowers yet, but she can read the labels by each patch. She chooses a hibiscus for red, a spotted orange orchid, yellow tree tulip… what comes next? Green. But there aren’t really any green flowers, just leaves and vines. She gets plenty of those from some white flowers: gardenia and tiare, the labels say. Tropical spiderwort is blue. There are no indigo-coloured  _flowers_ , but there’s an indigo  _plant_ , so she picks a sprig of that. And for something violet… paper flowers! They aren’t really made of paper, but Adam explained that the blooms  _felt_  like tissue paper. That makes sense. She feels the blossoms in her hand for a minute before she reaches to pick one.

Thorns! They’re sharper than any she’s ever felt. Her arm stings in twenty places. She sees blood coming from little holes in the skin.

Dad is outside the house before Alex gets there; he’s hurrying down the path. “Alex, sweetie? I heard you crying.”

She nods. “I hurt my arm on the paper flowers. They’ve got big thorns!”

“I’m sorry to hear that!” Dad says. “Come inside with me and we’ll get your arm feeling better in no time.” He leads her to the bathroom and helps her wash the cuts on her arm, then puts band-aids on them. “I know it looks a little scary, but those cuts will be all healed and gone by tomorrow.”

She nods and hugs him. Then she remembers something. “I was going to bring you flowers!”

“That’s okay, honey. What matters is that your arm will be better soon.”

“No, I picked them. I dropped them on the ground, though.”

“Do you want to go back for them?”

“Yes.” Then she remembers and says, “Yes, please.”

“Let’s go get them.” He holds her hand, and they walk back to the flowerbeds. Alex points to the flowers she picked. Dad feels around under a garden bench and finds a box of tools. He puts on a set of thick-looking gloves and picks up the flowers. “Remind me to bring the gloves back after dinner, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Have you learned something from this?”

She thinks about it for a minute. “Before I touch something, I should make sure it isn’t sharp.”

“That’s right. You’re doing a good job learning, Alex.”

She smiles. “Should I put on my new dress for dinner?”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

Later – the sun isn’t that much lower, but it feels like a long time – people start coming over. Everyone is carrying a dish. It’s called a potluck, Tom explains to her; it would be too hard for one person to cook everything, so instead, they all take turns and share. Before they eat – most of the food doesn’t look that good, really, but there’s pie and ice cream for dessert – Dad says, “I think we should go around in a circle and everyone should say something they’re thankful for.” Alex isn’t sure what he means, but he looks at her and at the other kids and says, “Jacob’s given us a lot of good things over the past year. This is a special time to remind ourselves how fortunate we are to be on this island.” He smiles at Alex and says, “I’ll start.” He clears his throat. “We’re all grateful that Jacob keeps this island for us, that we’re free from so many of the evils that are in the world. We’re thankful to have the opportunity to look for ways to help heal those problems in the rest of the world, an opportunity that Jacob has given us. And we’re grateful to have another year to use all our resources and abilities to discover ways of doing that.” He smiles at Alex again and says, “I’m thankful for all the people who have worked hard in the gardens, too, and to Alex for bringing us the beautiful bouquet we have on the table.” He turns to Richard, who’s sitting to his right. “Richard?”

“I’m sure we’re all thankful for the things Ben has mentioned. I’m thankful to have his leadership and his guidance for our community. And I’d like to thank Alex for the bouquet too. It really is very nice.”

Tom is next. “I’m grateful to everyone who’s here working with us, everybody who’s at this table right now and the folks who are with Amelia and Isabel, too.” Then he grins. “I’m thankful to Ben for hosting this, but not half as thankful as I am to Amelia for giving me her recipe for gravy and stuffing!” Everyone laughs, and they laugh again when Karl, who’s almost ten and thinks he’s always right, says “I’m thankful for the flowers too. Even if they’re dumb and Alex is a girl even though she has a boy’s name.” Aldo, who’s eleven and knows he’s always right, is thankful for the new baseball field. Matthew and Luke thank Ben for trusting them enough to put them on forest duty and give them big machetes – although they’re big too, they’re thirteen. “Remember that Jacob helps us to stay safe in the forest,” Dad says, mostly gently.

Everyone at the table says something; Alex’s turn is last. She can’t think of anything that someone hasn’t said already. She loves Dad and his friends and the forest and the beach, being able to learn and sometimes to help the grown-ups or play with the other kids, even if they’re a little too old. Everyone is looking at her; she knows she’s supposed to say something. She doesn’t know why she feels nervous, suddenly, with all of them watching her; they’re all nice, and they’re not going to hurt her. She’s relieved and embarrassed at the same time when she finds herself saying, “I’m thankful for everything!”

 

 **  
II. November 26, 1994   
**

Alex’s turn to say what she’s thankful for comes last again this year. Dad says they’ll make a tradition of it. She thinks that’s good. That way she won’t have to choose something she thinks is more important. Otherwise she’d say everything, and dinner would get cold. She’s most thankful to have Dad, of course, and she’ll say so, but everyone’s thankful for him. Maybe not quite as much as she is, but still. And if she said the same thing every year, it would be boring.

This Thanksgiving Adam is at their house, and he says he’s thankful for the new scientific equipment that arrived on last week’s shipment. He’ll be able to study more things about the island, and learn more about it. He’s glad Ben helped Jacob give him that opportunity. Beatrice Klugh is next to Adam, which is a special occasion. She travels around the island a lot, and sometimes she’s away on a task when a holiday comes. Right now she isn’t, though. When it’s her turn, she say’s she thankful to Ben for inviting her over, and for the new horse he got for her. Mikhail panicked and shot the last one by accident. They used the meat instead of letting it go to waste, but it was still hard for Bea to get around the island after that. Alex thinks the old horse was prettier, but it probably wouldn’t be polite to say that. Maybe Bea is sad about the old horse – Mencius, Alex remembers, a reddish-brown horse with a white spot on his forehead. It was fun to brush his tail and feed him carrots; he had soft, rubbery lips that tickled Alex’s hand and made her laugh. The new one is a polka-dotted mare named Linji. She doesn’t seem as friendly, but maybe she’s just shy at first.

It seems like forever, but it’s finally Alex’s turn. “I’m thankful for Daddy most of all,” she tells everyone. “And I’m thankful for Bea for letting me ride in the cart sometimes, and helping me visit Mikhail.” It’s fun to be with Mikhail; he knows wonderful games and always makes Alex laugh. But she can’t always visit him. Sometimes he’s having something Dad calls an episode, and it isn’t safe for her to go to his house in case he panics and shoots her too. “And for helping me learn Russian, because I like Russian a lot.” She smiles across the table. “And for bringing sweet potato pie, because it smells really good even though I don’t like sweet potatoes usually, and I can’t wait for dessert.”

 

 **  
III. November 25, 1995   
**

The new people always come to their house for the first cycle of holidays: Thanksgiving, Christmas dinner, Easter brunch. After that they rotate between what Alex thinks of as the holiday houses, like everyone else, but the first year they always come to Ben’s house, which is what they call it. Alex thinks of it as  _our house_ , hers and Ben’s.

Ethan is to Dad’s right this time. He got to the island in August, although he’s been here before. His turn is right after Dad’s. “I’m thankful to Ben for giving me the opportunity to do outreach work,” he says. “It’s very important to our work here, and I hope that I’ve been able to establish some contacts and some avenues of communication that will be helpful for al of us.”

“I’m sure they will be,” Dad says. “We all appreciate your work, Ethan.”

“Thank you,” he says. “Even more than that, I’m thankful to be back here with everyone. The outreach is terrific, but there really is no place like home. I can’t believe how much Alex has grown.” He smiles at her. “The last time I saw you, you weren’t much bigger than one of your dad’s bunnies!” Alex is sure she was bigger than that, but she thinks Ethan might just be using a metaphor. She learned about those in Tuesday’s lesson.

When Alex’s turn comes, she smiles at the woman next to Ethan, who just got here last week. She’ll have different jobs here, like everyone else, but Ben explained that mostly she’s a tutor for Alex. “I’m thankful for Sabine,” Alex says, “and to Dad, for helping her to come here. I can’t wait to start lessons with her. And I’m going to show her around the island after lessons, too.”

Sabine laughs. “I can’t wait either! I know I said it already, but I really am thankful to have this opportunity, and especially to Ben for making it possible. And Alex for being so eager to learn.”

 

 **  
IV. November 23, 1996   
**

Goodwin – well, William Goodwin, but there’s already another William – comes to the island the year Alex turns eight. At Thanksgiving, he says he’s thankful for a lot of things and to a lot of people. “I hope I’ve thanked everyone who’s due in person,” he says. Then he smiles seriously and adds, “Well, except Jacob. I’ll let Ben convey that gratitude for me. But let me say, now that I’ve got the chance, how thankful I am to finally be on the island after I’d heard about it from Ethan all these years. We’re both excited about helping the people here have families. But we really are one big family already, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are,” says Dad. Everyone smiles, but Alex is distracted as the next new person – Bonnie or Greta; Alex always mixes them up – starts her turn.

Dad told Alex about her mother this year. She’d been asking about her for a long time, and when she asked on her birthday, Ben sighed. “I always wanted to wait until you were old enough to know, Alex. And then I realized you’ll never be old enough. I was using that as an excuse to avoid telling you something you have a right to know. And I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Dad sounded sad and tired. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, you need to know.” He sighed again. “Your mother died when you were born, Alex. She lived just long enough to see your face and tell me what I should name you.”

Alex had always known her mother died when Alex was really young, too young to remember her, but she didn’t know it was that early. She’d never known how it happened, or why – she still didn’t, she realized. Something terrible occurred to her, suddenly. “Did she die –  _because_  I was born?”

Dad took off his glasses and put them in his pocket. “I wouldn’t say that’s the right way to think about it.”

“What is?”

“Your mother and I both wanted children very badly,” he said. “We loved each other so much, and more than anything else in the world we wanted to have a child together. I was worried because your mother had some health problems, and I wanted to talk to the doctor about it first. Dr. Gale,” he adds. “Alice Gale. She’s on an outland station now… She said it might be dangerous, but your mother was adamant that she wanted a child enough to take that risk.”

“What does ‘adamant’ mean?”

“It means she insisted. So we decided to have a baby, and we were very happy. I have never in my life seen anyone as happy as your mother when you were on the way. She started getting sick, but even when she knew she was going to die, she was completely happy.”

“Did I ever talk to her?”

“No, sweetheart. Babies can’t talk until they’re a year or two old.”

Alex wanted to cry. “I should have said thank you. I should have told her I loved her.”

Ben took her on his knee, even though she’d been too big for that for a long time. “You didn’t have to say it, Alex. She knew.”

And Alex knows now, suddenly, what she should say, since it’s her turn. She takes a deep breath first, and Sabine puts a hand on her shoulder, but her voice still wavers. “I’m thankful to my mother. Because she loved me enough to want to have me, even though she knew she might die from it. And I want Dad to ask Jacob to tell her that for me, even if she already knew. Because I never told her.”

She looks at Dad and sees that his eyes are getting shimmery. “Of course I will,” he says, squeezing her hand. “I’m thankful to have Alex in my life, because she is the most wonderful daughter any man could ever imagine. Her mom would be very proud if she could see her today.”

 

 **  
V. November 22, 1997   
**

Not much is new the Thanksgiving Alex is nine. Matthew and Luke are at their house; they’re almost eighteen now, and taller than Dad. Aldo is nearly as tall. Karl hasn’t started growing as fast as they have been for the last few years, but he’ll be fourteen next month. His voice goes up and down as he says what he’s thankful for. He doesn’t say anything out of the ordinary, but he doesn’t tease her about the bouquet the way he used to, either.

Alex isn’t thinking about her mother as much this year. Ethan and Goodwin have learned some things, and everyone says they’re making progress, but they tell Alex she’ll still probably be the youngest person on the island for a long time. Alex is trying to be patient, but she can’t help feeling a little bit disappointed, too. She’s been wondering about what it would be like to have a friend her own age - well, it's too late for that, but at least someone who's younger than she is, or just another girl.

She’s still got a lot to be happy about, though, and she smiles when it comes her turn. “I’m thankful to Dad, for trusting me with tasks and with exploring.” She’s old enough to start helping the community now, and she likes it. It’ll be a long time before she’s big enough for the heavy chores, but she can repair things and pick fruit and help make cloth and rope and baskets. Her jobs are the small ones, but they’re still important, and she likes the way it feels to do something useful when she’s not having lessons. Not that she doesn’t play anymore, or do lots of exploring by herself, but this is a sign that she’s becoming one of them. An adult. She adds, “And for helping Jacob keep us safe.”

 

 **  
VI. November 28, 1998   
**

By the time Alex is ten, she can guess what most people are going to say ahead of time. That doesn’t make her like it any less, but she still knows. Richard is thankful for some news Dad has brought from Jacob, Sabine for the progress Goodwin and Ethan are making and to Alex for being a good pupil, Danny and Colleen for the new fishing boat that’s come to the island. Well, it isn’t new, exactly, but it’s newer than the one they’d been using. Alex isn’t a boat expert – a _nautical_  expert, she reminds herself; she has to use her vocabulary words if she wants to remember them – but she can tell it’s a good boat. Wherever they have needs, Jacob has the island provide for them. 

Even though they were strangers, though, Alex still feels a little bit sorry for the people who were on the boat. Dad sent out a search party when he saw it, but all the fishermen were dead. She heard Tom and Danny talking about getting rid – _disposing_  – of the bodies.

They’ve had plenty of rain this year. Alex is thankful for that; it’s easier to find fruit and useful plants. All the plants are lush, and it’s more of a challenge to learn how to track things in the forest and cover her own trail.

 

 **  
VII. November 27, 1999   
**

Alex is really tired on Wednesday night; she doesn’t know why. Maybe she spent too long in the sun today or didn’t drink enough water. She finishes her homework early and goes to bed at eight o’clock.

On Thanksgiving, she wakes up feeling like her sheets and pyjamas are damp. She hasn’t wet the bed since she was three years old. What happened? She turns back the sheets and gasps.

“Dad! Wake up!” She’s in her father’s room sixty seconds later, half an hour before his alarm. “Daddy, please!”

He rolls over drowsily. “Hmm? What is it, Alex?”

“Dad, there’s something wrong!” She tugs at his arm as if she were four years old and impatient to show him something.

He sits up. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“There’s – ” She doesn’t want to say it, suddenly, afraid that that will make it real. She wants to be brave, and at the same time she wants Dad to reassure her in a way he hasn’t had to in years. “There’s blood. Here.”

He follows Alex to her room, which seems to take forever. She tries to guess what he’ll say and can’t come up with anything, not even the expression on his face. She doesn’t know she expected him to do when she showed him the stained clothes and bed linens. Whatever it was, though, she didn’t expect him to take a second’s look at them and say, “Oh, shit.” He takes a deep breath, then he turns to her. “It’s okay, Alex. This is normal.”

“Normal?”

“I just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon.”

“What’s happening to me?”

He opens his mouth and closes it again without saying anything to her. Instead, he reaches for the hand radio in his bathrobe’s pocket. “Ethan? Ethan, are you there?”

There’s a crackle of static, and then Ethan says, “Ben? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Ethan, but I need you to come over to my house now, and I need you to bring Sabine with you.”

“Sabine?”

“Yes, and have her bring some… supplies for Alex, if she’s got any.”

“Alex?”

“Yes, Ethan, Alex. My daughter. And hurry up.”

Fifteen minutes later, Dad is making breakfast while Alex sits in the living room with Ethan and Sabine. Sabine is explaining a section that Ethan photocopied from one of his medical books. They keep telling her it’s normal, like Dad said. They say it happens to everyone – well, as much of everyone as there is without the men – but it all sounds too bizarre for Alex to believe. There’s nothing normal or healthy about this. She feels sick, she’s bleeding, she’s scared, and whatever this thing is that’s happening to her, Dad won’t even talk to her about it, or look her in the face. Ethan gives her headache tablets, and Sabine gives her a box of what she calls sanitary napkins, although as far as she can tell they don’t have much to do with regular napkins. She doesn’t see how any of it will help. 

It’s hard for Alex to care that it’s Thanksgiving. When Dad asks her to help assemble the big table and set places, or asks what flowers she’s going to pick, she’s barely paying attention. She can tell Dad doesn’t really care about it very much this year either, but he has to say something. She’s glad he isn’t talking about what’s really on his mind.

She can't pay much attention to what people talk about as they go around the table, either, saying how they’re thankful for things that don’t seem to matter right now. But if Ethan and Sabine were telling the truth – and maybe they were; Alex hasn’t died yet – then it’s not like this hasn’t happened to half the people in this room. Sabine. Diane. Catherine. Delores. Marjorie. Bonnie. Emma. She wants to stare at every one of them. She forces herself to stare at the bread basket instead.

“Alex, honey?” She shakes her head as if to clear it and looks at her father. “It’s your turn.”

“Oh! Okay.” She bites her lip. She had been thinking of things to say, yesterday, but she can’t remember any of them. “Um… I’m thankful for good health.”

“Yes. I think we all are,” says Dad, giving a big smile that doesn’t look completely sincere. “Thank you, Alex. You’ve reminded us that everyday circumstances are something to be grateful for. Isn’t that right?” He looks around the table, and there’s muffled agreement.

 

 **  
VIII. November 25, 2000   
**

Alex only gets back to the house two days before Thanksgiving. She has a forest practicum built into her lessons, and she spends ten days in the woods with Bea and Sabine. They have her record field observations in her notebook and ask her questions about everything, when they aren’t showing her more about the hatches and about tracking. Alex thinks she’s getting better at it.

When they get near Mikhail’s house, Bea goes to check on him, first retrieving a bottle of bottle of Apollo vodka from her backpack. She comes back to their hideaway a few hours later, saying that it’s all right to visit him. Alex is glad; she hasn’t seen him in eight months. He had one of his longer episodes, she heard, and Dad was annoyed because he’d made things difficult and gone and shot Bea’s horse again. This time Dad sent for two new ones so that she won’t be stranded, but it will be a few more weeks before they arrive. In the mean time, Alex has been practicing her Russian with Bea, who she likes, but it isn’t the same.

Mikhail seems okay now, though. He kisses Alex’s hand and makes a little bow. “You are getting to be such a big girl!” he says. “Soon you will be so tall, you will not fit in your house anymore!” Alex wants to tell Mikhail that he’s looking well, but she’s not sure she could say it without him understanding that she means  _for you_.

He offers them tea and brings them potato dumplings. “Not the most proper thing to serve to guests,” he says, “but it is all I could make on one morning’s notice. Nadia was washing her face when I woke up,” he adds, gesturing to his cat and laughing, “so I knew to expect company.” Alex wonders if that’s a superstition from his old country, but something tells her not to ask.

After they’ve had their dumplings, Sabine and Bea go to compile a report of Mikhail’s information for Ben, leaving Mikhail and Alex to play chess. Alex isn’t very good at it yet, but she’s old enough to realize that Mikhail is letting her do better than she should be. Eventually, though, he can’t avoid checkmating her, and she surrenders her king without complaining. “You should come to Thanksgiving next week, Mikhail,” she says. “I bet Bonnie and Greta wouldn’t mind running the Flame for a few days. You would like Thanksgiving.”

Mikhail snorts. “I could stuff myself with food here if I wished to.”

“It’s not about that,” Alex protests. “Well, a little bit. But mostly everybody gets together and we think about what we’re grateful for.”

“Grateful?” Mikhail gives a bitter laugh. “There was a leader of my country once. Gratitude is a sickness that infects dogs, he said.”

“Why did he say that?” Next week, she’ll say she’s thankful for Mikhail, like everybody should be. Nobody must have ever been grateful to him, if he repeats something like that.

“He was not a very good man, this leader… You have a happy Thanksgiving, Alexandra. Perhaps I will eat too many dumplings, and think of you.”

 

 **  
IX. November 24, 2001   
**

Alex hasn’t heard a single word anyone has said as they’ve gone around the table. She doesn’t realize they’ve come to her until Dad clears his throat and taps her on the hand. “Alex? It’s your turn.”

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to tell us what you’re thankful for this year?”

“Oh.” She swallows and presses her hands flat against her chair. “I’m thankful to Juliet for figuring out what happened to Sabine.” A hot, wet streak goes down her cheek. “So that it won’t happen again. And for trying to make there be families here.” Juliet, sitting on Ben’s other side, looks so miserable that Alex wishes she could mean it.

It’s been eight days since a group of them stood on the starlit beach, carrying torches and dressed in white salwar kameez, and set fire to Sabine’s body as they pushed it out to sea. Something by Joni Mitchell was playing on the loudspeakers, and no one said anything. The next morning some of the frames on the wall held different photos, ones of Alex that didn’t have Sabine in them. “It’s unhealthy to focus on things that have happened in the past, Alex,” Dad explained to her. “If there are reminders of something that might be upsetting, you need to remove them from your environment.”

“Is that why there are no pictures of my mother?”

“Yes, it is. I knew I couldn’t be the father you needed – the kind of father she would have wanted for you – if I kept dwelling on her after she died.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Do you have any pictures of Sabine, or things that she’s given you?”

Alex thought about it for a minute. “The book she brought from the outland.” She hadn’t read it in years; she couldn’t even remember the title, just the cover illustration with the girls and the babies in a lifeboat. “There are some pictures in my scrapbook, too.”

He handed her a paper bag. “I need you to bring all those to me.”

She went back to her room and found the book. The author was called Carol Ryrie Brink, and on the title page Sabine had written, “To Alex, with lots of love, Christmas 1995.” She put it in the bag and paged through her scrapbooks as quickly as she could. Special “good work” notes, birthday cards, photographs: everything went into the bag.

 _Not everything_ , she reminds herself, trying to look happy about buttering a bread roll. She was about to bring the bag to her father when she saw she’d overlooked a single picture, from her ninth birthday. Sabine was right at the edge of the frame, looking like she didn’t know she was being photographed as Alex blew out the candles with Dad holding her hair back from the flames. Alex should have thrown it away with the rest of the photographs, she knew that the moment she saw it, but instead she slipped it into one of the inner pockets of her shoulder bag. It’s sure to get bent there, but no one is likely to come across it, either. She hasn’t felt any better since Sabine died, no matter how much she’s tried. She can’t stop worrying about that picture, either. She’s been lying to her own father.

 

 **  
X. November 23, 2002   
**

“I’m thankful to Ben for giving Greta and me the opportunity to work in Canada.” Bonnie’s voice is strong and enthusiastic, the way it always is. “I’m really going to miss it here, but I know Jacob’s mission is for the whole world, not just this island.”

“I can’t tell you how much it means that I’ve been able to earn so much of your trust, Ben,” says Greta. “I’m thankful for the chance to help you and Jacob wherever I can. Even if it is in the middle of an iceberg!” Everyone laughs at the joke, and Alex almost doesn’t notice that Greta’s smile looks forced.

For the second year in a row, she doesn’t pay attention as they go around the table and enumerate their blessings. All she can think about is the fact that Abby and Tullia were both supposed to be here this year, and both of them have died. Raine was supposed to be here too, but she and Juliet are at the Staff instead.

Raine wouldn’t listen to her. Juliet wouldn’t either. Alex doesn’t know why Dad keeps on believing what Juliet tells him.

“Snow peas,” she mumbles, when the turn comes to her. “I’m thankful for snow peas.”

 

 **  
XI. November 22, 2003   
**

Another three people are gone this year: Raine, Catherine, and Gertrude. Anna is at the Staff right now, but Alex knows what will happen. Alex is too old to argue about it, or to beg; Dad’s reminded her of that. She’s tried talking with him, and with Juliet. All it’s done is make both of them not want to talk to her.

Across the table, Karl says he’s thankful for being able to complete his training. He’s a lab assistant now, on his way to being a researcher. Alex is the only one who knows that Karl isn’t really grateful for it. Everyone has to say something, after all. Karl’s just naming what’s happened most recently.

Karl went out of his way to be nice to Alex after Sabine died, which helped her more than any of Dad’s adjustment strategies. Those won’t help Karl when Anna dies, either. She was his tutor for longer than Sabine was Alex’s. Karl tried to talk Anna out of the project. He got punished when Anna reported him for it.

“ _Alex._ ” Dad is irritated with her. “Are you going to say something, or does someone need to remind you what your name is?”

Everyone is staring at her. “Oh! Sorry. It’s… hard to decide, though.”

“Well, give it your best try.”

Her best try. “I’m thankful for being able to work with Bea and Colleen. They’re teaching me a lot.” It was the first thing that came to mind, anyway. But if… “I’m thankful for Marjorie and Delores, too,” she adds quickly. “The day-to-day things they do are really important.”

Ben nods. “They certainly are.”

“And for Diane, and the way she can learn to do all the different jobs really well. She’s incredible. Isabel, too, because – ”

“Thank you, Alex!” Dad’s voice rings through the room, sharp and jarring. There’s an uncomfortable pause, and after a minute he says, “Thank you, again, to everyone who’s here. Happy Thanksgiving.

 

 **  
XII. November 27, 2004   
**

Dad has  found a lot to give thanks for this year. A plane crashed, bringing him exactly the doctor he needed. They have two new children in their community, bright, healthy kids who they’re all unbelievably happy Jacob has brought them. Ben’s thankful that all of them here are safe, and that he’ll be able to continue to guide Alex as she grows intellectually and personally. All her reasoning and bargaining and pleading haven’t had any effect, then. He won’t let her see Karl as long as she lives. He won’t even tell her what’s happened to him.

“I’m thankful to be back home,” Richard says when Ben falls quiet. “I can’t tell any of you how eager I am to be getting my hands back on the work that matters here.”

Cindy gives him a big smile, which turns into a beam when she looks at Ben. “I’m thankful to be here as well,” she says. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. I’m only sorry that you’ve suffered some losses recently – ”

“We’ll be able to recoup them,” Dad says in a reassuring tone.

Cindy smiles even more, if it’s possible. “I’m thankful that I’ve been able to bring two new children into your community. I’m looking forward to being able to bring more.” She giggles, although no one's had wine yet. “Zach and Emma will be thanking you in person once they’re out of vaccination quarantine.”

“I’m sure they will. We’re happy to have you, Cindy.”

“I’m thankful for the new defence equipment, Ben,” says Bea. “It’s important that we have the ability to protect ourselves from the intruders. We need to keep this island and run it for Jacob.”  _Who nobody’s seen._  

Some people are thankful for Ben’s and Jacob’s help, and their group’s capacity, to make the intruders face consequences for the deaths they’ve caused. Others say they’re grateful for the new mothers who might be here already. _The new mothers._  On this island no woman has ever become one. No one except Claire, whose baby Jacob didn’t intend to have a mother.

“Alex?” Richard says lightly. “Your dad just told you it’s your turn.”

She manages to smile sheepishly and nod. She’s never had any practice as a liar; Dad’s always been too good for her to get away with it. “The turkey’s getting cold, Alex,” Juliet murmurs.

“Is it?” She doesn’t care. “I’m thankful that Dad has a tumour.” 

There’s a collective intake of breath, only half-shocked; Dad said the same thing, that this demonstration of the workings of Jacob’s will was the clearest sign of blessing that anyone could be given. “I’m thankful there’s finally a doctor here who might have half a brain and not believe any of his bullshit.”

“Alex,” Dad warns her, using the tone of voice that used to make her tremble

“What,  _Ben_?” she spits back. “I’m thankful that you’ll probably be dead before Christmas. I could spend the whole time telling them the reasons.” Some part of her brain tells her that she’s being childish, that she’s throwing a tantrum as if she were two or three years old. She doesn’t care. There’s a haze of anger clouding over everything in her mind right now, so that she can’t really see anyone in the room, just a mosaic of fragments she detests. “I’m thankful that whoever is in charge of this island is finally getting as sick of you as I am!”

“Alex, sit down right now!”

“ _No!_ ” She kicks her chair away. “I’m thankful that I’m going to get to set fire to your dead body and that all you’ll ever manage to do in this world is get passed through a shark’s digestive system. I’m thankful that we ran out of morphine last month, too.”

He grabs her wrist, hard enough for her to hear a clicking sound as their bones press against each other. Too fast to know what she’s doing, she takes her steak knife in her free hand and slashes it toward him. He drops her wrist and without meaning to she shouts “ _I want you fucking dead!_ " She smashes her wine glass against the table and runs out of the room, out of the house, into the forest where no one can find her.

 

 **  
XIII. November 26, 2005   
**

Last year they didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving here. They couldn’t have, really, with everything that was happening. This year is a long way from being easy, and only half of them even come from places that have Thanksgiving, but it seems like something they need to do, something they’ll all like. There’s no pretence to any of it. They sit on split logs and use their fingers to eat off of ensete leaves; any tableware they had has long since been destroyed. The meal consists of cold-soaked taro and smoked fish, with a little bit of coconut milk to drink.

Not everyone observed the holiday the same way Ben did. Some of their families went around the table like Alex used to; some didn’t. Rose’s family was in the first category, and she’s firm about keeping to it. “You’ve got to remember that it’s not all bad here,” she says, “no matter how much you’re wishing you were somewhere else.” She smiles. “Keep it to one thing each, though. Otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

Alex is careful to pay attention to what everyone says. She won’t remember most of it, but she wants to know what they’ll say. Rose is thankful that they’re all together, and Bernard that for now, at least, they’re safe from harm.

“I’m thankful that I’ve found my brother,” Claire says, smoothing a sleeping Aaron’s hair. “That’s one thing that’s happened to me in the last year that’s really good.” She and Jack are both smiling.

Everything blurs together much faster than Alex expected. People are always nodding and agreeing with each; it obscures the memory of who’s said what. Everything they name is simple. Fresh water. New friends. Soap nuts and sapodilla. Places to swim and sunbathe. Food.

She’s surprised that she hasn’t decided what to say when it’s her turn. She’s nodded in agreement at everything, glad that she has a place to be, a liveable place, and that there are all these people… As if instinctively, Alex presses up against Danielle’s side. Danielle puts her arm around Alex’s shoulder and kisses her head. “I do not know what it is I should tell you,” Danielle says. “I do not think my daughter does either. Do you, Alex?” Alex shakes her head, not trusting herself to speak.

Rose gives them a kind, sad smile, and Jack, sitting across from her, smiles as well. “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t need to say anything at all.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _Lost_ is all ABC's; no claim or commerce here.
> 
>  
> 
> Title Credit: _King Lear_.


End file.
